


3 What-If’s I’ll Never Tell You

by Rivalry_of_Destiny



Category: Persona 5
Genre: It's also sort of a reflection?, M/M, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, in short I trample upon my favorite character's feelings and i feel bad, like a character study almost???, that's pretty much it fml, wrote this for a p5 writing blog on tumblr soho hmu over there if ya feel like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivalry_of_Destiny/pseuds/Rivalry_of_Destiny
Summary: “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad by Meatloaf,” said Akira quietly.It was odd, since he couldn’t understand a lick of what came out of the diner’s speakers, but for some reason…Ryuji couldn’t agree more.





	3 What-If’s I’ll Never Tell You

Ryuji wasn’t the thinking type. Others have said this of him, and he can’t help but agree. He’d always seen things as they were presented on the surface, unless a gut feeling had told him otherwise. 

He did or said what he felt was right, in the moment, even if it came back to bite his ass later – though he rarely thought that far ahead.

He lacked tact even when he tried his best to have it.

He didn’t put consideration into his actions or spend ample time making plans. He didn’t play with theories or attempt to wrap his head around complex _anything_ procedures. Yet, for someone who wasn’t the thinking type, for some reason, he often pondered “what-if’s”.

Perhaps a tad too much. It stupefied even himself.

It was because of thoughts like these he realized there was more to himself than just the brainless banter he showed to his teammates; mostly Morgana, in point. That cat just had a way of nagging his mouth into action. 

There were many what-if’s swimming about Ryuji’s head, in total.

Yet the first three, all held one thing in common…

Ryuji glanced at Akira a moment.

1\. _What if I’d never met him?_

Kamoshida had been a devil staring him down in a crossroads for a long time. Ever since he’d shown up, Ryuji had made blunder after blunder, mistake after mistake, and in the wake of each he’d drowned deeper and deeper in regret. It was like he was sinking to the bottom of a marsh and Kamoshida was presenting him a pole he could only do two things with:

_Submit to me, grab on._

_Defy me, pummel further down._

If he had done the former, Kamoshido would no doubt have beat him raw with the prop he’d saved him with to make sure Ryuji knew his place – below Kamoshida, one way or another; whether it was gasping for breath on the floor or suffocating in an abyss further below made no difference.

Those had been his only two options for a long time, and eventually, he’d lost sight of the surface. No longer could he grab for the purchase, even if he wanted to, but Kamoshida still _taunted_ him with it.

There had been so many – _too many_ – instances where he’d wanted to snatch the pole and pummel Kamoshida silly with it, damn the consequences. Let him beg, let him bleed, let him feel the pain of his bones shattering under each blow.

And yet…

_“What kind of mother are you, letting your son turn out this way?”_

_“Where’s your pride as a parent?”_

_“If it’s too hard raising him by yourself, then get married already – Lord knows a decent father figure would fix all the problems you obviously failed to.”_

_“God. It’s like you’re not even trying to raise him properly.”_

… the memory of his mother being barraged by the school faculty’s insults froze him in place everytime. The stillness in her shoulders when it happened, and the sound of pure disapointment in _herself_ she made when they got home. He could not, would not, do that to her ever again. And so, he continued to trickle deeper and deeper into his own hell; succumbing, and utterly alone. 

At least, that used to be the case. 

_“…Pervert?” the teen gave him a straight look with a matching flat tone._

The case before Akira Kurusu appeared. It was as if the all-black muck of the abyss had been set aflame the moment he met him—

–and a path was slowly burning its way from the surface.

It took a while for Ryuji to realize the sudden shift, however. Nearly being killed by black masses in armor, meeting a talking cat, screaming from the pain of accepting his true self and deciding to _rebe_ l –

–it had all distracted him from realizing the gradual release of tension in his chest.

Until, once it was all seemingly over, he found himself breathing in clear air and feeling the sweet, sweet burn and, Akira holding his life-line with his secret smirk Ryuji had only _just_ started to get glimpses of.

If he had never met Akira – he…

If another group had become the Phantom Thieves, he would have been okay. There was no doubt he would have continued to live on.

But he couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life genuinely happy or excitement buzzing him out of bed every day like a rechargeable battery if that had been the case, like he was in the present.

Akira jumped small-ly when Ryuji settled an arm on his nearest shoulder and grinned placidly. “Something wrong?”

Ryuji leaned to the opposite direction, but kept his arm on Akira’s shoulder. “Morgana ate my cod, but I’m not thaaaaat pissed.”

“That’s new,” Akira said blandly but with that undertone of mirth. “Who are you, and what have you done with—“

“Nope, nope, that’s _definitely_ Ryuji. No one else can pull off that _I’m too cool for school, cool with a k_ , hairstyle,” snickered Futaba maliciously from across the table.

“You little crab, I _swear_ I’m gonna—“

“Don’t burn him too much,” Akira mumbled well enough to be heard. “I’d prefer not to carry my best friend’s ashes in an urn.”

Ann shook her head. “Why would you even keep his ashes…?”

“I’ve heard you can sell ashes for a lot of money on Ebay,” offered Makoto.

“Joker!” Morgana hissed suddenly. “Sell Ryuji’s ashes and get me another fatty tuna roll!”

Ryuji gasped and began calling everyone at the table traitors at the top of his lungs, when the second most prevalent what-if came to mind.

2\. _What-if he hadn’t been my first best friend?_

People develop a multitude of relationships in life. Some temporary, some distant, some frivolous, some deep. Ryuji had no friends in elementary, because that was when his dad was still around and the bruises were difficult to hide; the mental ones even more-so.

In middle school, it was slightly less barren. He had met Ann, and talked to her somewhat, but there were also other boys who likes manga as much as he did.

Some of them were later even members of the track team in high school – until Kamoshida appeared like a demon summoned from a sacrificial ritual. It was the abuse his teammates and he had suffered from Kamoshida that had brought them closer together. But unlike the day his father left his mother and him, when he screwed up and sucker-punched the coach and in-turn forfeited the future of the team, they ostracized him.

The only thing he had left after rehab for his leg was his sense of justice… and that only isolated him further.

In all the time before that, Ryuji hadn’t had someone he’d ever call his best friend. Before Akira, his mother alone held that title, and Ryuji never did nor never would feel embarrassed for it.

Yet it felt like a completely different experience, his friendship with Akira. Akira was quiet, more mature, and he didn’t have that feminine charm or adult mannerisms his mother did. They had shared interests and their conversation were intriguing – no one else shared his love the villains in manga, sadly. They got along exceedingly well and Ryuji felt as comfortable around Akira as he did in his own skin. It was odd, calming, and completely alien to Ryuji.

And because of this, he couldn’t help the swell of fear in his abdomen at the thought of their relationship never having took form.

Yet at the forefront of his thoughts… 

This last one was technically not a what-if – but it was. It really, really was. Not in its statement, but in its circumstance. If Ryuji had accepted his feelings sooner. If Ryuji had gotten over his ignorance. If Ryuji hadn’t stopped to think for once and had instead followed his gut like always. If Ryuji had pursued that tingling sensation he felt in his very blood whenever Akira touched him…

She might not be the one sitting there.

3\. _I love you._

Ryuji’s gaze fell to their Leader’s lap when Akira put an arm around Makoto. He nonchalantly let his arm fall back to his side.

Ryuji would never tell Akira any of these three what-if’s, but he would do what he could to treasure them.

“Everyone,” Haru interrupted out of the blue. “What song are they playing? I like it.”

“Ann, you’re the one who speaks English. Time to shine.”

“Um, _sorry_ , but country isn’t really my _thang_.”

“Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad by Meatloaf,” said Akira quietly.

It was odd, since he couldn’t understand a lick of what came from the diner’s speakers, but for some reason… 

Ryuji couldn’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> #whydoiputallmyfavoritecharactersthroughsuchpain ¿
> 
> Original link on tumblr: [here](https://p5-writing.tumblr.com/post/159742056942/title-3-what-ifs-ill-never-tell-you-prompt-3)
> 
> Feel free to request there as well!
> 
> And, if you want to yell at me about the game c;;; my personal tumblr is [a la here](http://destinycreate.tumblr.com)


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